


Demonic Devotions

by Angel_of_Death_3000yrs



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Chubby Reader, F/M, Self Insert, death kinda, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_of_Death_3000yrs/pseuds/Angel_of_Death_3000yrs
Summary: At the Outpost Michael meets a stranger who might not just be a stranger to his heart and soul.
Relationships: Michael Langdon/Original Female Character(s), Michael Langdon/Reader, Michael Langdon/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Demonic Devotions

The days blur together now. There are no sunsets or sunrises to separate the days from one another. They all seem to fade into each other, the only passing of time was indicated by clocks and meals.

Y/n often found herself deep in thought, for lack of anything else to do when she finished a book. She didn't find conversation with the other survivors to be captivating enough to hold her attention. All but Timothy and Emily had paid their way in, and seemed to have a higher sense of self worth that was amplified by the high status that being designated a purple allotted them. Y/n herself has a similar arrival as Timothy and Emily, but she never was told that she had superior DNA, she simply was grabbed and given no explaination other than the fact that she was necessary. She thought with that explanation, she might have been a grey, necessary to keep things running, but she was a purple. She didn't fit with the rest of the purples, they seemed to isolate her, not thinking her of a high enough class to fit with them.

The purples seemed to almost resent her, save for Timothy and Emily, but they were far too wrapped up in each other to make notice of her. Coco and her hairdresser Mr. Gallant seemed to find joy in creating misery for Y/n. She knew she was not like the rest of them, even with a corset on her outfits, the large poof of dresses that only seemed to add to her larger figure, and she was still ostracized as fat and ugly in comparison to the rest of the survivors.

Y/n was quiet, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself than what she already gained from being in the room. It was easier in the library to hide away from the rest, but it seemed that she was at the forefront at the diner table. Every bite that she took from the odd gelatinous cube seemed to draw a sneer from Coco and Gallant. She drew her eyes away from the rest of the table to focus on her cube.

"Do you really need to eat?" Y/n could hear the disgust in Coco's voice and could almost picture the scrunch of her nose as the heiress looked at her.

Gallant laughed, almost cruelly. "I mean, you are fat enough to provide your own nutrition for a while."

Y/n kept her head down and kept eating. Ms. Venable was quiet, watching the scene at the table.

"Look at me when I am speaking to you. And quit eating for once!" Coco whined, petulantly.

Y/n looked up, but instead of following the orders of Coco, she looked the heiress in the eye and placed another forkful of the cube into her mouth. Coco seemed to grow red with anger at the act of defiance. She stood from her place at the table, yanking her dress up away from her feet and storming away from her place to Y/n's.

Coco took the plate away from the front of Y/n, the cube rolling precariously to the edge before she threw it to the ground. Y/n flinched from the sound, and the sudden slight of pain that made itself known at her ankle.

"You bitch. You could last a few weeks without these cubes, and save the rest for us. It's not like you need them, storing up all that blubber. It's a wonder why you haven't lost any weight in the year and a half that we have been here!"

Y/n stood, calmly walking away from Coco, intent on going to her own room, and no one stopped her. She could hear the whispers that followed behind her.

"Run away little piggy." Was said by Gallant.

"It's a shame someone who could be so beautiful is fat and ugly."

"It's not like she didn't deserve it."

The others continued to whisper, but their words faded as Y/n was further away, and finally into her own room, her small sanctuary. It was there that she let the tears fall silently, never one to sob loudly, keeping the attention away. It was there that she looked at her ankle and the blood that was dripping down her foot.

She managed to bandage it with a strip from an underskirt, and she sat back, thinking on her next actions for the evening. She could go to bed early tonight, or she could go into the library while everyone was finishing up their dinner. She could be there before they get there, and quietly pass the time. Her mind was made up, she would go to the library.

* * *

Y/n ran her fingers over the spines of the books with an almost non-existent touch. Each one was pristine, but held the nature of being old. Some of them looked like they had never been touched, and she wanted to read them all, to give each of them love. But, she was only searching for one good one. She paused at one, almost as pristine as the others, but the corners held sure signs of wear and use. She carefully pulled the book from its place, brushing her hand over the cover and the gold lettering on the leather.

Her hand ever so carefully pulled back the cover to look at the information. It was a first edition copy of One Thousand and One Nights in English, and on the title page was faint lettering. It was a pen, but faded, it was a name, simply a first name. Michael.

She brought the book over to her hidden alcove, a seat that was away from everyone else and hidden from sight. She sat down and brought her legs up with her, her back against one bookshelf and her feet nearing the other. She soon found herself lost in the words, and the penned annotations of Michael.

* * *

She had almost missed the alarm sounding with how deeply involved she was in the book, but she was thankful for her decision to stay in her room that day. She had fallen in love with the book, not just because of the stories, but because of Michael. She felt like she was reading it through his eyes through his interpretations. It put her in a melancholy state to think about the author of the annotations, as he was most assuredly dead by the time she found the book. However, these ponderings were forcibly broken as she sat in the library with the rest of the survivors for Ms. Venable's announcement, the evening following that morning's alarm.

A stranger was in their midst, at the head of the room, and Y/n only wished to sink further back into her chair as her gaze landed on her. She was somewhat pushed away from the rest of the group, but was undoubtedly a purple. She only hoped that he did not hold the same sentiments as the rest of her companion survivors, as Langdon, as he introduced himself, explained his purpose.

Langdon noticed Y/n the moment that he walked in, but he knew that she was the one that was trying the hardest to not be noticed. Coco, Gallant, and the other stars it seemed were ready to throw themselves at his feet if that was what he indicated would be the sure way to ensure their survival. This one, the hidden one, she was different, he could almost taste it in the air. He almost paused in his explanation when he took another look at her, noticing the worn book in her lap. It was one of the ones that he had loved dearly as a young man, and now she had found it, and his writings within it, but he continued his speech smoothly, noticing a look of sadness come into her eyes while her face betrayed nothing. He longed to take her for an interview first, but Gallant had volunteered himself, and he would honor that request.

Langdon walked out of the room, sharing a longer moment of eye contact with the hidden purple as he left out of the door that was behind her.

He had finally worked through the rest of the interviews, and was finally ready for Y/n to sit down with him. He wouldn't be ashamed to admit that he had observed her in the passing days, wanting to understand her and the other survivors through their actions, but he watched her most of all. She intrigued him and drew him toward her, but he would refuse to admit such a thing to anyone other than her. He often wondered if such a draw was due to his parentage, but he had asked and there was a whisper of an answer, never clear.

He would sometimes sit at dinner with the rest of the survivors, but Y/n was never there, at least never there when he arrived. It was a passing moment that he was able to find her next. 

"Hello, Miss L/n. It appears that neither of us were paying attention as to where we were going." Michael spoke with a grin, glancing down at the open book in her hands, his handwriting clear on the margin. "I would have thought that you were in the dining room at this time."

"I wanted to find a quiet place to read." She spoke a half truth, there was more to her statement, but Michael would not push the issue in a hallway.

"Where are you planning on going? I might join you."

"Well, there is an alcove in the library that I like to read in, but I don't know if we will both fit in it." Y/n spoke truthfully, but she did not know why.

It would have been easier to say that she was finding privacy in her own room, but she didn't. He was almost magnetic, not with the same kind of charisma of a leader, but someone who has an interesting story to tell.

"I think I will join you, if anything I can pull up a chair." He knew the alcove well, it was one of his favorite places when the bunker was his old school.

A blush seemed to glue itself to Y/n's cheeks, her ears hot. He walked alongside her, and fell in line with her steps. When they arrived at the library, he was able to sit in the alcove with her, each able to lean back into a corner, but not placing her feet up as she had done before. Her blush grew warmer at his close proximity. Despite the odd situation, they had both sunk into a quiet reading in each other's company.

Michael would glance up occasionally at Y/n, her cheeks still rosy. He found comfort in her presence, and was able to fall into a comfortable silence as he read his book. The comfort did not last though, as soon the ruckus of the other survivors filled the library.

It was easy to ignore them, their voices somewhat dulled due to placement of the alcove, but Michael chose to listen in, after all, he still needed to make some decisions

Coco's nasal voice spoke above the rest. "She is not going to the Sanctuary. I mean, who in their right mind would want her there. Uck!"

Gallant laughed, his voice the same volume as Coco's. "Maybe she could be used as cattle. She is fat enough for it."

Michael fought the urge to roll his eyes at the idiocy of the two, they were not his choice, they were never even considered with a passing glance. He glanced over at Y/n, whose form had stiffened since the others began speaking. Her posture spoke to him, telling him how uncomfortable she was, along with the increased attention on a single page of a book, a single line of the page.

"I think," Michael spoke, drawing Y/n's attention to himself. "that it is about time that I conducted your interview."

She nodded, closing her book. Michael stood, offering Y/n his arm, which she gingerly took, allowing him to lead her out of the library, but unfortunately in the view of the others.

"I didn't know that Langdon had a fat kink." Gallant shared a stage whisper with Coco, earning giggles from some of the others.

Y/n's head drooped, and Michael quickened his steps.

* * *

It seemed like she was never calm when she was around anyone in the compound. She was nervous and self conscious in the presence of Coco and Gallant. In front of the others, there is some other sense of unease. In front of Emily and Timothy, she was left out, always an afterthought. And Langdon, he made her uneasy, but not in the way that the others have. She knew as she sat down on the chair in front of his desk that her nerves were going to get the best of her. Her hands were shaking, and it was an effort not to bounce her leg. She could only wonder what her tongue might reveal to him.

Langdon could feel the nervousness rolling off of Y/n, and while it was something that he would normally enjoy, it was an odd feeling from her. It did not feel right from her, and he wished to end it.

He stood from behind his desk, and led Y/n to the couches by the fire. She settled down some, but was still not at ease, so he started his conversation, knowing that there was no real way to calm her completely at the moment.

"Why do you think you should go to the Sanctuary?"

"I don't know." Y/n was honest. "I don't even know why I am at this outpost. In all honesty, there are people far more deserving to live than me."

"Why do you think that?" At this point, she was the only one that Michael wanted to take with him.

"I am nothing special, nor am I beautiful. There is nothing that I can contribute that something better than me can't."

Michael leaned back with a hum, planning on taking the lives of Coco and Gallant himself rather than leaving them behind to starve. "I don't believe that."

Y/n became more alert, her eyes focused on the man in front of her. "Really?"

"Yes, and I would like to spend more time with you to demonstrate that fact."

"Is that part of the process of deciding who lives and who dies?"

"No." His mouth turned upward for a moment. "I have already decided, more or less. I would simply like to get to know you better, and maybe you can get to know me a little as well."

"Okay." A nervous smile spread on her lips, and Michael returned it with a gentle on of his own.

* * *

Days past in a similar manner to the one that they spent together in the library. Most often, it was enough to simply get used to the other, reading in comfortable places, such as the library or the floor in front of the fireplace. Their conversations became easier as they became more frequent. Secrets were revealed between them, and soon Y/n felt as if she had known Michael for longer than the time that they were underground, gaining an insight into him through his notes in the margins of the books he gave her to read.

Y/n felt as though she was falling in love with him, but she dismissed it. She counted it as part of the lack of good company in the recent situation, and she believed that even if she was one of the few women left on earth, he would still not choose to see her in such a way.

* * *

What a strange time it was. Mallory watched from the sidelines, seeing the love that Y/n and Langdon held for each other, even if the other couldn't see it. Langdon scared her, but Y/n was a kind soul. As much as she wanted to step in for either, Coco always seemed to prevent it. Her main worry was trying to see her ship sail before they all died, but that was before the witches came, before she received her memories back.

She only glimpsed Langdon's tear stained face, the pain in his eyes, before she was whisked away, and forced to dive back in time. She felt his pain so clearly, and she knew that it was for the dead woman in the other room, for Y/n.

That is why she was hesitant. He proved himself to be caring, to change, because of Y/n. Her original plan with the renteed car was murder, but could the apocolypse be avoided on the account of one woman? She started driving, seeing the similar desperation on his face, and made her decision. The academy would need to welcome its first male student.

* * *

Y/n sat crying once again. While normally the serene greenery of her secluded garden in the park would soothe her, it seemed to be failing her at the moment. She had another bout with her mother, and this time, her mother had placed padlocks on all the cabinets and the fridge, preventing her daughter from eating. Her mother had done this before. She was so tired of it, she would never be in the right form for her mother.

Maybe it was that exhaustion that led her to agree to go with a stranger. She introduced herself as Mallory.

"Where are we?" The building in front of her was beautiful, too beautiful for someone like herself to be seen near it.

"This is a school for witches. I am one." Mallory formed a flower in her hand, and handed it to Y/n.

"Then why am I here? I am nothing special." Y/n directed her gaze at the flower sadly.

"You are special, and there is someone here who has been waiting for you."

Y/n gave Mallory a questioning look, but Mallory only led her into the building.

Michael had been waiting on the stairs, since he felt Mallory and whoever she had with her coming a few miles away. He felt as if he had a draw on his very soul, but he would wait for Mallory. That patience diminished as soon as _ she _ stepped into the building, beautiful, soft, and he knew that the other end of the tether was tied to her. He felt as if he wasn't in control of his own body as he made his way over and pulled her into his arms. He was finally home.

Y/n was startled, but soon relaxed at the almost possessive touch, bringing her arms up to encircle him. She felt as if she was truly home.

"Hello beautiful, I'm Michael."

"Y/n. Please don't let me go."

"Never."

Mallory smiled, leaving the two alone for a little while, she had made the right choice.

  
  
  



End file.
